


i swallow your heart and you make me spit it up again

by procrastinatingbookworm



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Butch/Femme, Choking, Emetophilia, Emetophobia, Finger Sucking, Genderplay, Gratuitous Smut, Humiliation, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Queer Themes, Squirting, Trans Elias Bouchard, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vomiting, unconventional love confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: Peter wins a bet, so Elias puts on a show.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 134
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	i swallow your heart and you make me spit it up again

“Well, that’s new,” Peter said.

Elias looked up through his pigment-dark eyelashes. Peter hadn’t realized how blond Elias’ lashes were until they were suddenly black, long and striking against his cheeks.

Peter couldn’t recognize all of what Elias had dolled himself up with, but he could definitely appreciate it. The mascara, of course, eyeliner, something green and shimmery on his lids, something _gold_ and shimmery on his cheekbones, and a deep burgundy lipstick.

“It’s not new,” Elias replied, turning back to the mirror to brush something dark onto his face, accentuating his cheekbones with false shadow. His undercut had been touched up, and his blonde hair was in a ponytail.

“It’s new for me,” Peter corrected, leaning on the back of Elias’ chair, peering into his reflection in the vanity. Next to Elias’ dolled-up, shining face, Peter looked plain, rugged and pale.

“You’re butch, darling,” Elias said, setting his makeup brush down and picking up a teardrop-shaped pink sponge. “You just stand there and look handsome, and I’ll put in the effort.”

Peter scoffed. “I hope that’s an attitude you’ll be keeping up today. I was promised a show for winning that bet.”

Elias’ free hand toyed at the belt of his deep green dressing gown, then dropped, loose-wristed, to his lap. “And a show you shall have. Just let me finish here.”

“I’m going to ruin it,” Peter reminded him, as Elias switched brushes yet again, dusting his nose and chin with the gold shine already on his cheeks.

“Darling, that’s the whole point,” Elias smirked, meeting Peter’s gaze in the mirror. “Do go get ready. I’m sure you’re impatient.”

Peter stepped away from the vanity where Elias was getting ready, undressing slowly. He didn’t make a show of it, but he knew Elias was watching. Elias always watched, greedy, possessive thing that he was.

By the time Peter was undressed, his clothes neatly folded on the armchair, Elias had finished his makeup, and was standing next to his chair, eyes blatantly devouring Peter’s naked form.

At first, when Elias (James, then) had looked at Peter with that hunger, Peter had worried he was going to meet the same fate inflicted on the original James Wright. There seemed to be very little distinction between _want_ and _wanting to be_ , at least in terms of expression.

But James had chosen Elias—a body just about the opposite of Peter’s—so Peter could be relatively sure he was safe from Elias… wanting to be him.

Elias untied the dressing gown’s belt, shrugging it off and hanging the garment over the back of the vanity’s chair.

Peter’s breath caught, just slightly.

Elias was wearing… Peter supposed it was lingerie, though the word felt strange to ascribe to the straps of leather that covered Elias’ body. It started as a coller, then wrapped around his chest, framing his pert tits, the piercings glinting in his nipples. It crossed his stomach in an X, circled his hips, and looped around his thighs.

Peter clicked his jaw shut. Elias was smirking like a cat that had caught the cream—though Peter supposed that was the goal. “Good enough of a show so far?”

“Get on your knees.” Peter sat down on the bed, spreading his thighs. Elias knelt, not breaking eye contact until he dipped his head to take Peter’s hardening cock into his mouth.

Peter let Elias work himself slowly down the shaft of Peter’s cock for a minute or so. Peter’s cock isn’t _monstrous,_ but was big, and Elias had a narrow jaw and a slender throat, as well as an inescapable gag reflex. 

When Elias seemed complacent—eyes half-shut, shoulders relaxed, drooling slightly—Peter grabbed him by the hair. He gave Elias enough time to go still, glance up, and realize Peter’s intent, before Peter dragged Elias forward onto his cock.

Peter didn’t even bottom out before Elias’ throat was convulsing, and Peter had to pull him back off, or risk being thrown up on. Which wasn’t necessarily unattractive, but it generally put Elias out of commission for a few minutes, and Peter wanted to enjoy him for a while longer.

Elias was breathing hard, eyes wide. His painted eyelashes had gone slick, and a single black tear traced from the corner of his eye.

“You look like a doll,” Peter said, mostly to gauge a reaction, and smiled when Elias moaned, very softly. Peter pulled the hair-tie out of Elias’ ponytail and tossed it aside. Blonde hair fell across his face, sticking to his forehead. His roots needed to be touched up—silver-tracked brown showing from under platinum.

“Is that so?” Elias breathed, blinking up at Peter. His expression was contemplative—not quite soft, not quite complacent, but thoughtful.

“I could just use you,” Peter went on, lacing his fingers through Elias’ hair. “You wouldn’t even mind.”

“Not at the moment, no,” Elias admitted. “But this isn’t blanket permission.”

“Hm.” Peter grabbed Elias under the arms and lifted him onto his lap. He dragged a finger through Elias’ folds, and his finger came away slick. “You’re soaked.”

“Get on with it, then,” Elias muttered, grinding into Peter’s thigh.

“Dolls don’t get to give orders,” Peter said, deciding he may as well play the game, if Elias was actually going to go along with it.

Elias sucked in a breath, his cheeks coloring under his makeup. He opened his mouth as if to argue, and Peter shoved him off his lap.

Elias hit the ground on his knees, graceless. He yelped, then wheezed as the leather straps pressed in under his ribs.

“Peter,” he choked out, once he had his breath back.

“I’m not hearing a complaint,” Peter said, taking Elias by the hair again. It was remarkably soft, thin against his fingers.

Elias didn’t voice any particular objections, so Peter dragged him back onto his cock.

It wasn’t a particularly good blowjob, all things considered. Peter just jerked Elias’ head up and down his shaft, and Elias was too preoccupied keeping his teeth out of the way and not vomiting to really do much, but it didn’t really matter.

Elias was resplendent. He made lovely, high-pitched sounds when he was running out of breath. His hair was in his face, sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and every time he choked, tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, smearing his makeup into black streaks down his face.

Peter realized, when he saw the mess that was Elias’ mouth, that there was going to be lipstick on his cock, if nothing else. He almost laughed, but arousal tightened low in his stomach at the thought—Elias, all painted and wanton, smearing his mark on Peter’s skin.

Elias was starting to gag in an unpleasant way, but he was still breathing—quick and sharp through his nose, but breathing—so Peter held him in his cock, watching the collar around Elias’ neck distend slightly, pushed by the bulge of Peter’s cock in Elias’ throat.

Elias made a sound that Peter could swear was a sob, eyes and nose streaming, drooling onto himself. Peter pulled him off just in time for him to be sick, right between Peter’s feet.

Elias’ face was a mess, tears trailing through what remained of his makeup, his lipstick beyond repair, but he looked satisfied with himself, as Peter manhandled him up onto the bed, threw a towel over the mess on the carpet, and knelt over him.

“Disgusting,” Peter said, fondly, kissing the side of Elias’ neck.

“Lube and condoms,” Elias choked out, leaning to the side to spit over the side of the bed. “Bedside drawer.

Peter leaned back, sitting on his heels and laying a hand on Elias’ stomach. “I like that you’re prepared,” he said, watching the curious expression that passed over Elias’ face.

Peter fetched the lube and the condoms, though honestly, they weren’t necessary, indulging in the way Elias couldn’t seem to track him with his eyes—much less his Eyes. He was unfocused, gaze dull and lazy.

And much more tolerable, given that he was quiet.

Peter rolled a condom on, slicking his fingers with lube. “I don’t even need this,” he said. “You’re dripping.”

“I appreciate it nonetheless,” Elias replied, his voice thin and breathless, chest heaving under the leather.

Clicking the lube bottle shut, Peter pushed one finger into Elias’ hole. When that only got a punched-out breath and not a noise, he added another, scissoring them carefully until Elias let out a whine.

Peter leaned forward, dragging his tongue over Elias’ right nipple, closing his teeth gently on the piercing. Elias made a high-pitched sound, so Peter bit down harder, until Elias’ voice broke.

Peter relaxed his jaw, laving his tongue over the marks of his teeth. He slid his fingers in and out of Elias, brushing his thumb idly over his cock.

Elias was panting by the time Peter turned his attention to the other nipple. He had to bite down immediately to keep his mouth around it, so frantically did Elias’ chest rise and fall.

Peter flicked his tongue against the ball of the piercing, and Elias gasped and came, near-silently except for the wet heaves of breath.

Peter curled his thumb away from Elias’ cock, but he left his fingers in him, moving slowly in and out. He sat up, and he could see the bite-marks around Elias’ nipples. Red curves, the flesh around them gone even whiter than Elias’ pale skin, a bruise starting to bloom on the right.

“Enjoying the show?” Elias rasped. Peter could see tears trailing from the corners of his eyes, a quiver in his lower lip.

“Quite a bit,” Peter replied, thumbing a mascara tear from Elias’ cheek. “Are you?”

“I would enjoy it more if you _fucked_ me, Peter,” Elias choked, then bit down on his lower lip, chest shaking.

Peter pulled his fingers out of Elias and held them over his face, letting the slick gathered on them drip onto the mess of Elias’ mouth.

It took clear effort, for Elias to lift his head and take the digits in his mouth, sucking them deep, past the second knuckle, until his eyes teared and his much-abused throat seized on a retch, but he did it.

Peter left his fingers in Elias’ mouth as he fucked him, letting him gnaw and drool and gag and sob while he drove into him, not so much violently as _insistently_. 

Peter folded over on top of Elias when he came, feeling the press of his tits, warm except for the coldness of the piercings, against his chest. He reached down to Elias’ cock and brushed his thumb against it, in tiny circles that he knew Elias liked, until he was coming too, in a gush, over Peter’s fingers.

He peeled off the condom, tied it, and disposed of it in the bin beside the bed. Elias lay without moving, gasping for breath, every exhale a perfect little whine. 

The Lonely seeped up from the carpet, encouraging Peter to disappear into its embrace, but Peter laid down instead, one arm wrapping around Elias, cradling his trembling form against Peter’s chest.

“A bit much for you?” he asked, swirling a finger through the teary mess of makeup on Elias’ cheek.

Elias shook his head, only shifting in Peter’s arms to shrug out of his leather, leaving him naked and pliant, streaked with his own come and sweat and tears, delicate makeup ruined.

He was lovely—utterly gorgeous. Handsome, _pretty._ Given the smirk on his face, he knew that.

“You think such nice things about me,” Elias muttered, half into Peter’s shoulder.

Peter concentrated. _Filthy wanton whore_ , he thought, and was rewarded by Elias’ bright laughter, utterly unlike a knife-edge.

“You too, darling,” Elias replied, grinning through his smeared lipstick, eyes alight. There was a faint, Knowing static to his words. “You too.”


End file.
